So this is how we fight:
Hands pressed against our chests, a step behind the line
I know, man, he's not worth it
The swelling will go down

Our chins are stubbled and our ego's worn
Leathered to a dark and shiny brown
(Image is everything) Can't you tell that we're people, too?
No no no ride it 'til you've had enough

I'll wait for this no more
Can't seem to cool down these feverish hands
I know, man, he's not worth it
But for a change, I wouldn't mind a piece